


don't stop me now (i'm having such a good time)

by dykejaskiers



Series: Gobblepot Holiday High Jinks 2019 [9]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Flirting, Humor, Jim Continues Making Poor Decisions, M/M, Texting, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykejaskiers/pseuds/dykejaskiers
Summary: [7:04PM]Hey. It's Jim, from the motel. This the right number?He didn’t even have the time to have a crisis before his phone binged with a reply.[7:06PM]Indeed. Unless you have multiple people leaving you numbers in motel rooms, in which case – this is Oswald.[7:06PM]And if that is the case, I might have to re-evaluate the whole idea.Jim snorted.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Jim Gordon
Series: Gobblepot Holiday High Jinks 2019 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559254
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	don't stop me now (i'm having such a good time)

**Author's Note:**

> *flails hands* I don't know if I'll write a follow-up! Kind of want to! Kind of want to leave it open! I don't know!
> 
> anyway i'm on tumblr at wesleywyndcm + queergordon, find me there for more gay content
> 
> and title taken from Queen (again)

Waking up from a somewhat impromptu nap, Jim found he had ten unread texts and three missed calls, all from Harvey. He rolled over in bed, and groaned softly into his pillow. He'd allow himself half a minute of peace – thirty seconds of nothing but the sounds of traffic carrying in from the streets below, the bustle of the city, waking up alongside him. Or, more likely, coming home from work, or going out.

Thirty seconds. He counted.

Then he opened his eyes with a beleaguered sigh, and sat up. 

His flight had been late, and he’d been tired. Jim always seemed to be, but regardless – he’d put his phone on silent and went to bed, chasing his inevitable nightmares away with a sleeping pill and a whiskey. 

There was nothing in Sheridan that could’ve – that _should’ve_ – given Harvey any reason to call him, much less three times. Not to mention _ten_ texts. One would’ve been strange enough, considering this was Harvey, who still preferred his news in paper form, and shirked away from messages whenever he could.

Jim took his phone with him to the kitchen, adamant to wait until he was sat down on his couch with coffee before he did anything about whatever the situation was. 

As he waited for the coffee to brew, Jim thought about Oswald. He’d done a lot of that, the past two days. He’d nearly caved, and sent him a text just before falling asleep, to avoid having to read whatever answer he’d get – if any – but had deemed that somewhat cowardly.

It was weird. Jim wasn’t horrible to look at, he knew – it was just, he didn’t often get left stranger’s numbers. Not that he often shared rooms with strangers, either, or– all of it, he decided, was strange, but not entirely off-putting.

That fit Oswald well enough too, he figured. Strange, but not entirely off-putting. The opposite, really. Why _had_ Jim felt compelled to offer to share his room with him? He was altruistic, but not an idiot, most of the time. Harvey had said as much, hadn’t he – Oswald could’ve been anyone, _anything_ . Could’ve _done_ anything.

And yet. 

His coffee machine beeped loudly. Jim poured himself a cup and wandered over into the living room, prepared to bite the bullet. It had to be about the case, he reasoned. Maybe there was a new development, some odd confession, who knew. 

The part of Jim’s brain that was fond of catastrophizing conjured up scenarios he did his best to dismiss or ignore – Harvey was injured, Jim had been called in to visit his deathbed, he’d been kidnapped.

He sipped his coffee, and opened the texts – and stopped in his tracks.

[3:20PM] _Jim, call me back._

[3:45PM] _Come on, I know you’ve landed already, Jesus Christ._

[4:15PM] _Are you home yet? Call me._

[5:07PM] _Third time calling, Jimbo, where the hell are you?_

[5:30PM] _Fine, screw it._

[5:32PM] _I looked your beau up on the computer. Name Cobblepot ring any bells?_

[5:34PM] _It fucking should, because, guess what!_

[5:35PM] _img0501.jpeg_

[5:37PM] _This the guy? It is, right? Jim, for the love of God, call me back and DON’T tell me you already called him._

[6:16PM] _Are you fucking dead?_

Jim stared at the attached image. It was, indeed, Oswald. Or, more accurately, his glaring mugshot.

He took another sip of his coffee, burned his tongue, and felt like maybe he deserved that one.

Jim called Harvey back, before he could think about it. He picked up on the fourth ring. 

“Oh, hooray,” Harvey greeted. “He’s alive.”

“How’d you find him?” Jim asked, in lieu of a greeting. 

“Oh, hooray,” Harvey repeated, more wryly this time. “You read my fucking messages?”

“Harvey…”

“Yeah, yeah – I went online, it’s all there. I’m not a relic, Jim, I know how to use _the net_.”

Jim felt a headache approaching. Why was he like this? Why was this his luck? And why – perhaps most importantly – why wasn’t he feeling more panicked?

“I didn’t text him,” he said. “Or call.”

Harvey gave a relieved sigh. “Great! You do have some common sense–”

“Didn't have the time, yet,” Jim added.

“–I take it back, you’re a grade A moron. Why would you do that? Jim, may I remind you–” He lowered his tone conspiratorially, “–that you are a federal _fucking_ agent, and the guy we’re talking about here is wanted in at least five states, one of which, _may I add_ , is the one you’re currently living in?”

Jim curled his fingers tighter around his cup. It burned a little. _Focus_ , his mind whispered. “Yeah, I know, I know. Look, it’s– I don’t know how to…” He trailed off. Somewhere outside, a car honked its horn for longer than necessary. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just… I have a feeling.”

He could almost hear Harvey’s eye roll across the line. “A feeling?”

“Yeah,” Jim said. “People have those, sometimes.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Jim, you’re the one being a massive dumbass, right now.”

He chuckled, which prompted Harvey to add, in a long-suffering tone, “ _T_ _his isn’t funny._ ”

“It’s a little,” Jim argued. “I don't know what to tell you. I just feel good about it. And after Barbara, it's been..." _Lonely_ , he was going to say. He'd been lonely, and somewhat miserable. Life didn't usually hand him out second chances, much less handsome ones. "Look, I really appreciate you telling me, Harvey. I do. You’re a good friend.”

“Damn right I am.” Harvey paused. “I’d be a better one if I wasn’t about to let you flirt with the mob.”

The way he said it – like it was an inevitability – made Jim smile. “Eh, well, you know what they say – if you can’t beat ‘em…”

Harvey scoffed, told him to get some sleep, and hung up before Jim could reply. A minute later a text popped up, saying, _Don’t think you’re off the hook, Gordon. Just wait till I get back to NYC._

Jim finished his coffee with a smile. 

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn't. He thought about the number still sitting in his wallet.

He stood up and fetched it, typing it up on his phone and saving it in his contacts under _Oswald C._ Then he spent another fifteen minutes contemplating the pros and cons, the legalities (or illegalities), the insanity of it all, and him, before coming to the conclusion that Jim had always been more of a man of action than consideration, anyway.

[7:04PM] **Hey. It's Jim, from the motel. This the right number?**

He didn’t even have the time to have a crisis before his phone binged with a reply. 

[7:06PM] _Indeed. Unless you have multiple people leaving you numbers in motel rooms, in which case – this is Oswald._

[7:06PM] _And if that is the case, I might have to re-evaluate the whole idea._

Jim snorted. He put his feet up on his coffee table. It was starting to rain, outside - he could hear the familiar pitter-patter sound of it hitting his windows.

[7:07PM] **Trust me, I really don’t. Especially not any worth texting back.**

He hesitated, thinking of the mugshot and what a terrible idea this was, before adding:

[7:07PM] **Chesterfield is a nice middle name, by the way.**

There was a long pause, during which Jim ordered Chinese and opened his TV, anxiously switching between channels to find anything to focus on. He settled on a crime show – he and Harvey had a habit of watching episodes whenever sharing a room during a case, and criticizing the unrealistic aspects of any given series – but his eyes glazed over soon enough. Would Oswald think he wasn't interested, because of the... because of everything? Would he think Jim was making fun of him, or maybe that it was a threat?

His food came. Jim cracked open a beer, and then another.

The clock had ticked all the way over to nine, before his phone lit up again. Jim’s pulse picked up.

It was a simple, four-word question, but it sent Jim's thoughts spinning.

[9:10PM] _Is that a problem?_

[9:11PM] **Your name? Just said it’s nice.**

[9:15PM] _Nobody likes an obtuse man, James._

[9:16PM] **No, it’s not a problem.**

It should’ve been. It kind of was. Jim bit his lip, writing and erasing and re-writing a follow-up message, before eventually settling on one.

[9:17PM] **Well, it is. But I can’t say I really mind.**

[9:24PM] _Maybe you should._

[9:26PM] **Maybe.**

Almost definitely, Jim thought. Another impulsive idea hit him, one he blamed on the beer.

[9:27PM] **You in NY?**

[9:30PM] _Why, should I expect an arrest warrant and handcuffs?_

[9:31PM] **I’m more of a dinner first kind of guy.**

[9:35PM] _I won’t let you know I laughed._

[9:36PM] _Yes, I’m in the city, for the foreseeable future._

[9:40PM] **Great. Dinner, next Sunday?**

There was a long enough pause that Jim started considering the possibility that Oswald had come to his senses, and was now ignoring him. It would've been fair enough. Jim should've done the same. But then-

[10:13PM] _Alright. Surprise me, agent._

Jim put his phone down. On the TV, the detective had just made his arrest, and was reading out the Miranda warning. 

He sent Harvey a text.

[10:14PM] **If I start a date out by saying “You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you,” do you think he’ll walk out?**

Jim was curled up in bed when Harvey replied.

[10:52PM] _If he doesn’t, he should._

Jim turned his phone off with a smile, and closed his eyes.


End file.
